


Thrill Of The Hunt

by Mr_Lazarus



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Battle Scenes, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, I Can And WILL Kinkshame You, I Made This Because There, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I honestly have no idea how, I'm Supposed To Tag This Thing, Ignored Laws Of Physics, Inside jokes, Is Too Much Monster Hunter Porn, Like With A Hard C, Memes, Non-Canonical Events, On This Website, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overpowered Main Characters, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, We Master Rank Now, Who Cares Let's Hunt Some Monsters, Why Did I Write This?, You All Need Jesus And, heheheh, no beta we die like men, sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Lazarus/pseuds/Mr_Lazarus
Summary: You may know the Monster Hunter series for its amazing storytelling, awe-inspiring battles and all-round enjoyable content. Any reasonable person could see how writing a story following the MHW story would be a good experience not only for the Author, but also for the readers- after all, not everyone is lucky enough to have the chance play the games.I am not a reasonable person.What started as a passing comment on a group chat turned into a joke, then morphed into a semi-serious discussion, only for this asshole to pick it up and say: 'fuCk YeAh i'LL wrIte THaT sHiT. GivE ME mY cOMpUtER!'Prepare yourselves. For this is not a simple tale of village-based Monster Hunting, nor is it a story for the faint of heart. This is a goddamn rollercoaster of bad ideas fueled by the purest crack cocaine money can buy and a metric fuck ton of sleep deprivation.This is the story of 3 hunters, unlike the rest. Hunters that defy the natural law and are hell-bent on tearing down preconceived ideals, leaving everyone with a terrible question lingering in their minds:Who are the real monsters in the New World?
Relationships: This Story/ Not Making Sense, You/ A Good Time, hammers/ faces
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Thrill Of The Hunt

_ “Sisters and brothers of the Fifth Fleet, It’s time. I’ll keep my farewell brief- never was much with words. Once you board this ship, there is no turning back. The next ground your feet will touch will be that of the new world. If any of you have lost your nerve, then step away now and let no one judge you... Very well. Then sail safe and sail strong. And may the Sapphire Star light your way.” _

Hunters from all walks of life, ranks, and aspirations walked slowly towards their new lives. A bright light shining through the exit of the Guild Headquarters and towards the behemoths of wood and bone they called ships - bound for the New World.

Any of those with farewells to give had done so already. Each hunter was issued with basic leather or chainmail equipment courtesy of the Research Commission, as well as several new pieces of technology designed to assist in traversing the still mostly undocumented landscape.

Everyone had to have a sort of fresh start, no matter their rank when taking off for the New World. After all, the smithy there didn’t have the materials for the upkeep of high-ranked equipment right off the bat.

Well... “everyone” being a very loose term that is. Everyone excluding a  _ select few _ were having a fresh start.... 

However there was a very good reason for these hunters to be treated differently by the Research Commission, and it was in all other hunter’s interest to not question it.

No, these hunters were not given special treatment because they themselves were special, though they were in their own right. And they were not treated differently according to any specific needs either.

As the trio of hunters in question boarded the boat last, one of them glanced back toward the guild with a wry smile, before giving a mock salute and disappearing into the depths of the vessel.

When the boat began to depart and the hunters were out of sight, everybody left in the Guild let out the collective breath they had been holding.

These 3 hunters, infamous for their own reasons, were treated differently not out of respect or admiration... 

_ “T-They’re gone. They’re actually gone...” _ Whispered one of the attendants behind the mission desk in a weak and unbelieving but undoubtedly relieved voice.

They were treated differently out of pure, unadulterated fear.

\- - - -

A particularly plain looking man was awoken by his Palico telling him food was being served in the ship’s canteen. Lugging himself out of his uncomfortable cloth hammock, he had to steady his still groggy head against the ship’s hull before continuing. The sway of the ship definitely didn’t help as he made his way to the door of the shared quarters. Riddled with seasickness and bedridden from the storm the day before, he felt as if he’d throw up any minute. He was all sweaty, his knees were weak and his arms were heavy, and he had a strange craving for his mother's cooking.

He couldn’t wait for landfall.

Exiting the crew quarters, he was hit with the smell of a variety of freshly cooked and well seasoned meats, and the distinct lack of vegetables. For whatever reason, they’d run out of much of their organic stocks not long after day 1. Something about a dispute between one of the crew and the head chef over the correct way to serve meals (“correct” being anything that had ‘well-done’ or ‘medium rare’ in its name) which ended in the dumping of a few weeks worth of fruit and vegetables overboard.

The man made his way down the rickety flight of stairs along the edge of the room. By this time, a few concerned eyes had rested upon him, confirming his suspicions that he looked just as bad as he felt.

A quick punch in the arm by his Palico reminded him that, as an A-lister, he shouldn’t be showing his crewmates such a weak display.

Putting on his best fake smile, he made his way over to a vacant seat on an otherwise crowded table.

Wait- why were there so many people crowded around one side of the room? The whole ship almost looked to be leaning to one side because of the poor weight distribution.

There didn’t look to be anything interesting going on, they all just sat quietly sipping their mead and speaking in hushed tones. What was this all about?

He was about to ask the person next to him, an equally plain looking man with chainmail armor and several mugs in front of him. However, it was interrupted by a loud crash on the opposite side of the room.

It was now that the man noticed where everyone was looking, quick glances over to a dark corner every so often. Panicked glances, looks that screamed insecurity coming from even the sturdiest looking hunters.

The man’s curiosity got the better of him, he needed to see exactly who everyone seemed to be avoiding.

It was only by the fraction of a hair’s width that he missed being stabbed through the eye by a stray shard of wood rocketing past his head. No, not a shard of wood, a piece of the floor. How did-

_ “Told you you wouldn’t be able to lift it! Pay up.” _

_ “Bullshit! I’m not paying before I get some proof that you can lift it yourself.” _

The A-lister witnessed as a lean looking boy lifted what he  _ guessed _ constituted as a hammer out of the smashed hull floor with one hand. The boy opposite him simply stood there with his mouth agape at the demonstration, as he himself hadn’t even been able to move the thing with all of his weight behind it.

Another boy, sitting at the table closest to them, slapped his knee and cackled in manic laughter over the scene as he wiped a tear of pure joy away from his eye. The strange bowgun beside him that he’d been cleaning forgotten as he laughed over his friend’s dismay.

...

He couldn’t wait for landfall...

\- - - -

It was as the man was talking to his Handler that things started going truly awry. As if the three weirdos now attempting to challenge each other to a three-way arm-wrestle weren't enough, the seas began to pick up once more.

_ “By my best guess, I’d say we were nearing land. The waves don’t usually pick up like this unless the seafloor changes elevation suddenly.” _

The Handler spoke with the confidence of a hundred elder researchers, he would be inclined to agree with her if not for the sudden cheers from the three hunters on the other end of the hall as they made their way above deck. Shouting something about ‘getting first kill’ or ‘making an entrance’.

Something about their sudden excitement set the whole cabin swimming through the waves of unease that rocked the vessel. What did they know that the rest didn’t?

They got their answer not a few moments later, as the hull of the ship started to shudder uncontrollably. 

_ “C-can earthquakes happen in the middle of the ocean?” _ Someone muttered behind him.

The boat suddenly lurched forwards as the remaining crew sprinted up the stairs to the deck as the trio had done so before.

Now even out of the ship’s depths, the vessel refused to stop sliding, as if it wasn’t in the water at all and instead being lifted up on the back of a massive monst- oh.

He had no time for gawking however, as the dense tree that made the mast began to splinter along with the hull. Cargo was being spilled into the water- which was now several dozen meters below- often taking people along with it. His palico nor The Handler were anywhere to be seen as he rolled out of the way of the crushing force of the support mast. The ship was quickly being torn apart as it tore against the volcanic mountain that had lifted it.

The sound of roaring waterfall from the remnants of the ocean far below them filled his ears for only a brief moment, as even that was drowned out by the mighty bellow of the beast they were lifted by. What he could only guess was a head rose from a prone position far ahead of him.

There was something else too- perched atop the highest peaks of the rocky monster’s hide. He could only just make out the silhouette of what looked like a person against the increasingly dense ash that threatened to suffocate even the most hardened of hunters.

As the A lister looked around frantically, trying to find something, anything familiar to work towards, he was interrupted by the hull he still clung to for dear life lurching once more- this time with enough force to send him flying through the air. As he fell, he looked back to see what remained of the ship pulled down and decimated by the shifting plates it was trapped in. Just a moment later and he’d have been crushed too.

That landing was... less than pleasant. The A lister landed squarely on his right shoulder, popping it out of place for a moment with an audible squelch before his recoil of pain brought it back in. A white-hot stab tore through his arm at the movement, but he supposed it could have been worse. Still, as far as he could tell all of the supplies went down with the ship, so there was no potion on hand to ease the suffering.

Fighting off unconsciousness, he surveyed his surroundings. There was red-hot magma seeping out of the porous rock underfoot, the smell of fire and brimstone filled the air. Was this really a monster? What kind of monster would see value in evolving into a moving mountain? Where did it get all of its heat from?

Once more, he was shaken by his analytical thoughts, though not by the beast or a crumbling boat this time, no. From the smog far in front of him he could see the outline of a person struggling up a rockface. The Handler? She survived?

The hunter wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or disappointed. Her drive and capability was certainly there, but her first impression kind of left a lot to be desired. She seemed like the type to need saving every other minute from dumb situations she’d gotten herself into.

Nevertheless, he sprinted to catch up. The giant’s back seemed to be shifting again.

\- - - -

Climbing certainly wasn't the hunter nor the Handler’s strong suit. He could only be thankful that at least he had the newly commissioned slinger to assist, though he wasn’t sure how exactly it worked.

As the pair climbed, the smoke around them got heavier. As far as he could tell, they were somewhere near the second-highest peak when they couldn’t see more than a few metres in front of them. Luckily, that was all they needed.

_ “Hey! Wingdrakes!” _ Shouted the Handler, somehow excited despite the circumstances.

_ Wait. Wingdrakes? _

\- - - -

Okay, so in hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea. Two people on one wing drake was proven to rarely - if ever - work. Let alone when one of those people wasn’t secured by proper equipment and the wingdrake itself was wild.

Needless to say, another rough landing was endured, this time on the left, thankfully(?).

By some miracle, he and the handler were dumped by some sort of forward camp. There they found a map (by no means filled out), a potion, and a few rations- all probably left there for some kind of emergency situation.

Despite having no weapons, they were as best equipped as they could hope to be.

In the distance, over a cluster of mysteriously fallen logs and foliage, they spied what the pair could only assume was their intended destination for landfall. At least they weren’t too far off...

The trek from the small camp was... suspiciously peaceful. They had just passed through a small craggy clearing before the Handler turned to him with a puzzled expression.

_ “I’m no hunter, but I know my environment well enough. Shouldn’t there- I dunno, be some sort of fauna around? I haven’t heard anything since we landed and that walking mountain disappeared. Not even an Aptonoth.” _

It was true, the hunter hadn’t heard so much as the hum of a kinsect's wings. It was as if someone had frozen the world around them. By all accounts, despite literally being surrounded by nature, it was the most unnatural experience he’d ever had.

_ “It’s like there was never anything here to begin with. Do you think we’re the first things to ever see this place?”  _ The Handler continued her mutterings as they moved. Though the A-lister paid her no mind.

There was only one thing that could disturb the natural order to such a degree.

One thing that could subdue even the flow of time in a place so full of life.

Something he’d only ever seen a handful of times in his time as a hunter.

A true Apex Predator.

\- - - -

It wasn’t too much longer that his concerns were thrown to the back of his mind, however. A path too clearly defined to be made by monsters lay before them as the duo emerged from the underbrush. To their right, foliage gave way to sheer cliffs and slate, land quickly giving way to the churning ocean (to which the hunter had a newfound fear of) at the end of a steep and unsteady decline. To their left, the sunlight that blanketed the landscape was abruptly cut off by another wall of forest.

The A-lister took a moment to bask in the sheer beauty of the scene before them, before his internal monologue was rudely interrupted by the Handler yet again.

_ “Hey! Look over there!” _ She exclaimed, sprinting towards an overgrown and mostly rotted tree.

Some of the scoutflies he’d been kitted out with followed her eagerly with a green shine before coming to rest at a patched of raised dirt where something had supposedly been dragged. He didn’t miss the few scoutflies that flashed a dangerous red for a moment before defecting to their green brethren but dismissed it as coincidence.

  
  


_ Hunters would later come to call this phenomenon “The Monstrous Paradox”.  _

_ \- - - - _

**An excerpt from “Scoutfly Theory” - Research from the New World expedition - how have scoutflies changed to fit the future?**

**Are scoutflies needed in modern society?**

**Volume 6, chapter 32 - ‘The Monstrous Paradox’**

_ -As it so happens, scoutflies worked by a set of checklists to associate stimuli with a reaction. This goes roughly as follows: _ _   
  
_

_ \- Is it relevant? _ _   
_ _ \- Is it alive? _

_ \- Is it dangerous? _

_ \- Is it human? _

_ Once this checklist has been assessed, a colour-based reaction is displayed by the swarm. For example: _

_ \- Is it relevant? → Yes _ _   
_ _ \- Is it alive? → No _

_ \- Is it dangerous? → No _

_ \- Is it human? → No _

**_→ Colour displayed = Green_ ** _ \- This applies to materials in the field, monster tracks, directions of interest, etc... _

_ Now another: _

_ \- Is it relevant? → Yes _ _   
_ _ \- Is it alive? → Yes _

_ \- Is it dangerous? → Yes _

_ \- Is it human? → No _

**_→ Colour displayed = Red_ ** _ \- This is the most common reaction to monsters, or otherwise situations the scoutflies deem as potentially harmful. _

_ The  _ **_‘Relevant’_ ** _ variable assesses whether it would be of any benefit to the hunter and/or the swarm to track. As hunters and scoutflies have a symbiotic relationship- one giving aid in the field and the other offering a home, safety, and nourishment- scoutflies quickly learn what a hunter will and won't want highlighted. Once upon a time, when scoutflies were first being trialled in the field with little training, a hunter was lucky if their swarm didn’t just start following another hunter- let alone going ahead and covering  _ _ everything _ _ in the area in a green glow. _

_ The  _ **_‘Alive’_ ** _ variable determines whether or not it needs to be tracked, and leads to the ‘dangerous’ variable as a precursor. If something is designated alive, scoutflies will allocate how many members of the swarm will be needed to track and whether or not caution is advised. _

_ The  _ **_‘Dangerous’_ ** _ variable is in place to not only alert the swarm, and by association the hunter, but also to help determine if it is necessary to highlight. A monster track itself is not dangerous, but it could have some leftover scales, tufts of fur, etc present. _

_ The  _ **_‘Human’_ ** _ variable is more of a failsafe than anything. Neglected for the most part. Scoutflies are trained to associate humans with safety, therefore, if this variable is determined ‘yes’, then all other variables are skewed towards a non-threatening situation. _

_ The Monstrous Paradox refers to a loophole in a scoutfly swarms instincts. It goes as follows: _

_ \- Is it relevant? → No _ _   
_ _ \- Is it alive? → Yes _

_ \- Is it dangerous? → Yes _

_ \- Is it human? → Yes _

_ As you can see, quite the peculiar conundrum for the humble scoutfly. Something that is not relevant, but registers as a potential threat. Something that is alive but doesn’t require investigation. Something that is human, but invokes such primal instincts from scoutflies that the dangerous variable is thrown out of proportion with the rest. _

_ In these situations, some scoutflies are unable to decide. In most cases flashing red a few times before defecting to the human variable’s rule. In some cases, scoutflies have been known to enter an overly confused state and stay glowing red until they eventually tire. _

_ How did this paradox come to be? Why do some humans- long after the hunting profession has dwindled- invoke such fear in our flashy friends? Why do many of them seem to come from the same bloodlines? Well, nobody knows for sure, however, following several well-hidden pieces of information- hypothesised to be attempts to destroy evidence (See bestseller: “The New World’s mythical hunters - Who were ‘The Three’?”) - we can make an educated guess of the first recorded instances. _

\- - - -

Why was everything so hell-bent on making him regret his decisions to migrate to the New World? Why was everyone so weird? Why did he have to get stuck with such an arguably useless Handler?

Well it wasn’t his fault, that’s all he knew. It wasn’t his fault that the Handler wanted to stop and pick goddamn blue mushrooms. It wasn’t his fault that it was at that  _ very _ moment they finally saw some form of life in the forest other than themselves.  _ It wasn't HIS FAULT that said life came in the form of an oversized, pink, fire-breathing Jaggi with a blocked nose. _

So, whose fault was it that he and the Handler were running for their lives back towards the gargantuan wooden gate?

He would very much like to blame someone, if not for the injuries from falling over _every goddamned_ _piece of foliage_ , then certainly for the copious amounts of shit occupying his newly soiled pants.

There they were, minding their own business (Or rather the  _ Handler _ minding her own, he was dragged along for the sole reason that it would have looked bad turning up at the settlement without her), when all of a sudden there was this- this  _ rumbling. _

Then, what sounded like several thousand sonic bombs went off at once as the noise of whatever accompanied the shakes caught up. Both the Handler and the hunter were forced into a fetal position to reduce themselves as much as possible. The sound was unbearable, it felt like their eardrums were being torn apart over and over.

And then there was silence.

The duo were left huddled in the remains of an ancient tree husk. A small nod exchanged was all was needed for a silent agreement to get the fuck away.

Apparently the rest of the forest had the same idea.

It started off small enough.

A small gecko, not even the size of a finger, scurried past them as they crawled out from their hidey-hole. If they were in any better mental state he was sure the Handler would have made a comment.

Next was some sort of big yellow toad. It hopped faster than its body shape would have ever suggested. It fled in the same direction.

He took a moment to thank whatever deity could be watching them that nothing bigger had decided to wander this way too. Heh, after all, they didn’t have any sort of weapons to protect- oh for fuck's sake.

_ Thump _

_ Thump _

_ Thump _

It was then that the hunter decided that monologues were never a good thing to have, as they were interrupted all too frequently by things that otherwise wouldn’t happen if he hadn’t jinxed himself by being overconfident.

_ Thump _

_ Thump _

_ Thump _

_ Thump _

The handler turned to him with an unreadable expression. Something he has since associated with bad times and, more often than not, running for his life.

_ Thump _

_ Thump _

**CRASH**

The pair only got a glimpse of whatever had just invaded the clearing through the thick scrub before their legs were moving all on their own. Call it self preservation if you will, but it’s just a nice way of saying “ _ [Your body is currently on autopilot because your brain can’t comprehend how fucked you are]”. _

  
  


Anyway. Yes, running. Good. Bad? He couldn’t really decide. On one hand, the giant Jaggi looking thing was gaining on them, fast. On the other hand, they could see the path in front of them as they were nearing the edge of the dense greenery- the wooden gate not too much further ahead.

But there was something else too. Something that his honed hunter instincts were screaming out for him to notice.

The monster, it... It didn’t look like it was chasing them.

Sure, it was behind them, running towards them as they ran away from  _ it _ , but it didn’t have the same bloodlust that most large monsters exert. There was no primal, hungry look in its eye when they met gazes whenever he looked back. Instead, its eyes darted around as if searching- like it wasn’t sure where its body was taking it either.

If the occasional stumbling from the beast or the obviously fresh burn marks like craters in its hide were any indicator- it was hurting, badly.

Wait. What if-

What if they weren't the only ones running away here?...

  
  
  


It was as they burst through the line of trees and untamed brush that he got his answer. Not a moment later he took the handler by the shoulder and leapt as far as possible to the side, bracing himself on a boulder for the beast's impact.

But it never came.

The large monster instead kept running, and running... and running.

It looked desperate. As the Handler fought to pick herself up off the ground behind the boulder he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for the thing. Now that it was out in the open he could clearly see the signs of an entirely one-sided battle. This thing had been beaten within an inch of its life and was using the last of its strength to escape... something.

But what could-

Oh, right. Monologues, bad.

_ Ff _ _ ff _ _ ff _ _ wo _ _ os _ _ hh _ _ hh _ _ hH _ _ H **H** _ **_HH_ _H_ _!_ **

There was some sort of dark shape that rocketed past the boulder as he silently reprimanded himself. The wind pressure it gave off as it sailed past at a near imperceptible speed was almost enough to send him falling back. He took a moment to see where it came from. The patch of forest they were in just a moment ago... that was... weird.

Also, if he wasn’t mistaken, the shape of the object was almost hammer-like. Far broader at the end facing the direction it was flying and slimmer at the other. Its beeline movement seemed too unnatural to be any sort of monster- but nothing he knew flew that fast. Especially not something man-made, like a hammer.

One would need far too incredible strength to-

To...

Oh fuck...

  
  


He turned, ever so slowly, back over to the now noticeably quiet monster that had been audibly limping away not a moment ago. Sure enough, its lifeless corpse lay prone just at the edge of the opposite treeline, just short of salvation.

From its head extended an artificial horn, as if in terrible parody to the Kirin.

A hammer, strangely constructed as it was, stood lodged in the back of the things skull, pointing towards the sky like some terrible flagpole.

It took all he had not to retch at the sight as movement back to his left alerted him of another presence. His scoutflies were going crazy in their canister, flashing red to green to red again as they rattled around.

From his position behind the boulder, the hunter watched in horror as one of the trio from the now long-lost ship casually waltzed out of the green and into the sunlight. He caught a Cheshire grin as they made their way over to the beast.

**_He wasn’t even sure why he was surprised at what happened next. Knowing what he did now, he wouldn’t have batted an eye. Oh, how ignorant he was, to once think that monsters were just something to hunt..._ **

The figure, the boy who looked not even 18 years old, scaled the corpse and retrieved the horrible amalgamation of blunt sides and bladed edges. __

**_How ignorant he was to think they weren't something to fear if one was strong enough._ **

The boy jumped down from the things back and made his way to the tail. Casually taking it in his off-hand and just started to walk with it. Whatever this  _ thing  _ was, it was dragging the lifeless monster away and back to where it once ran from, whistling as it went along its merry way.

\- - - -

The Handler nor the hunter spoke after that. They just waddled through the gate and were greeted with empty optimism at every turn.

_ “You made it!” _

_ “Everyone! The A-lister Fivers are here!” _ _   
_ _ “You must be tired, let me show you to the quarters” _

They never spoke of what they saw that day. Of the boy who wielded a terrible instrument of death and could drag an Anjanath away with one free hand.

They slept for 3 days and 3 nights before either of them felt ready to face the insanity of the situation they’d willingly thrown themselves into.

Even so, one thought racked his mind regardless of his mental preparedness. Something that kept him company on sleepless nights in the shared quarters.

**_Oh, how ignorant he was, to believe that monsters didn’t wear human skin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> And that's chapter one.  
> You may have realised that the first chapter is from the perspective of the MHW Player Character, not from the trio discussed in the summary.  
> Good things come to those who wait. This is the groundworks, all great monuments need a steady base to rest upon.  
> Next chapter we'll be going back and redoing it from our intrepid hero's point of view.  
> I look forward to seeing you there.
> 
> Good luck, and may the Sapphire Star guide your way.


End file.
